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Oml i love him to death
❗️If his studding services are somehow off let me know❗️
27/05/2022 NRLC 13/15 with Rosette, kinged on 2nd of may 2025
Stats:
344 - 2/05/2025, kinged
516 - 15/05/25
GB spent on this fucker:
Bought for: 20GB
King swap: 25GB
Mut + Gen rep: Buffy + 9K SB + 1GB sex change + king change 25GB, equivalent of about 51GB at the time
Total: 96GB
LORE:
Va'torr’s early life was one of peace and admiration, growing up under the watchful eye of King Temperance, a ruler whose kindness seemed as boundless as the savanna itself. Temperance was a beacon of wisdom and warmth. He believed that strength lay not just in muscle but in compassion, in the understanding that all creatures - whether lion or prey - deserved respect. Va'torr, the young cub, had always admired this about his king, and in his heart, he hoped to one day lead his pride with the same fairness and generosity.
But all of that changed the day the rogues arrived.
The rogue lions were nothing like the peaceful travelers that occasionally wandered through their land. They came with fire in their eyes and poison in their hearts, a group of bloodthirsty wanderers, hungry for territory and power. Va'torr watched, powerless, as Temperance welcomed them into their domain, hoping to extend the same understanding he had to the outsiders. The king was always open to negotiation, believing that peace could be forged even with those whose intentions were unclear. But the rogues didn’t come seeking peace. They came to take.
In an instant, everything shattered. The rogue lions turned on Temperance, slaughtering him in cold blood. The lionesses who stood by Temperance, who had once been warriors of justice, fell alongside him. The pride was torn apart, and Va'torr, who had watched in silence for so long, felt the ground beneath his paws crumble away.
The fury within him ignited like a wildfire. He had always respected his king's ideals, but the world had proven that peace alone was not enough to safeguard what he loved. When the largest of the rogue lions, a brutish figure with jagged scars, charged at Va'torr, the young lion’s fury boiled over. He fought with a rage born of grief and betrayal, his golden fur streaked with blood, his fangs bared in a ferocious snarl. He took down the beast with a ferocity that surprised even him, feeling the satisfaction of his enemy’s death and knowing it was the only way to ensure his pride's survival.
As the rogue lions fled, Va'torr stood victorious but forever changed. The ideals of Temperance, once so deeply ingrained in his heart, felt like fragile glass in a world that had crushed them with brutality. The pride had lost its gentle king, and now it was his responsibility to lead, but not with Temperance’s softness. The world was not kind, and Va'torr had learned that kindness could be a weapon turned against you. No longer would he trust outsiders, nor would he allow his pride to suffer the same fate again.
Va'torr became a ruler unlike any other. Cold and calculating, he kept his pride isolated from the rest of the world. Where Temperance had extended a paw in friendship, Va'torr’s claws remained unsheathed, ready to strike at the first sign of trouble. Outsiders were viewed with suspicion, their motives questioned. His leadership was firm, unyielding, and often harsh. He spoke little, but when he did, his words carried the weight of someone who had learned the world’s cruel truths the hard way.
Though Va'torr ruled with a sense of justice, he did not tolerate weakness. His pride was his family, and no one, NO ONE, was allowed to threaten that. He was protective, fiercely so, but distant. His love for his pride was unwavering, but it was not shown in the same warm embrace that Temperance would have offered. Instead, it was an unspoken understanding: as long as they did not stray, as long as they did not falter, they would have his protection.
Va'torr’s heart was cold, scarred by the loss of Temperance and the betrayal of the world. He carried the burden of leadership alone, preferring to trust in his own strength rather than the kindness that had once guided him. And yet, deep within, there lingered a trace of the cub he once was—the one who had hoped for a better world. It was buried beneath layers of bitterness and wariness, but it never fully vanished. In his moments of solitude, Va'torr would often look out over his pride, his golden mane rippling in the wind, and for a fleeting moment, he would wonder if there was another way.
But those thoughts were rare. Va'torr had learned that in this world, only the strong survive, and only the cold-hearted can protect what matters.
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